


Within Aeonar's walls

by samodivax



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samodivax/pseuds/samodivax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have an Alternate Universe where my Amell, instead of becoming Warden, is taken to Aeonar. Very short drabbles ahead!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I sentence you to imprisonment in Aeonar." Gregoir's words echoed in her head. Ivory walls, heavy metal plate, the clanking of boots against stone, she tried so dearly to remember it all.

Lily hadn't said a word since they were shackled, wrists and ankles and necks all in chains, as if they could escape if it were less heavy. Memories are missing, Gwen realises, because one moment they had just gotten across the lake and then they'd woken up in the hold of a ship.

"Lily," her throat is dry and she is certain it is blood lubricating it at present, but she rasps on "where...?"

Where are we, where are we going, where have we been, why don't I remember it?

Lily says nothing, does not even acknowledge her.

Gwendolen suspects she did not hear her, and does not bother to try again.


	2. Chapter 2

" _Amell_ " sounds like a curse on their togues, perhaps because it was said between roars of _bitch_  and _mage_ , and honestly, she didn't know which meant what anymore. She knew it wasn't the shock of it all, that had long since passed, this was something else, something she'd never read about. Something that had to be expirienced to be understood.

Between the harsh shoves and being yanked by her leash, she was left uncertain if the soreness in her bones or the crushing weight of carrying herself voluntarily hurt more.


	3. Chapter 3

She hears _them_ whispering. Calling to her with a tender touch and voices of warm cut glass.

She doesn't know what they're saying, not really, but she understands it. They speak in a tongue older than hers, and she knows not what it's called nor a single word. But she knows what they want. She knows what they're offering.

Even if she can't hold a single thought long enough to _truly_ know, she feels it.

Soon, she learns to block them out.


	4. Chapter 4

She is bruised, and bloodied, and broken. Her chapped lips covered in her own blood, she refuses to move from the cold stone where they had left her.

It was not the first time they unlocked her cell.


	5. Chapter 5

She wakes up once, not remembering when she'd fallen asleep. There is a name on the tip of her tongue, something vaguely familiar, something distant but real. A woman.

Somehow, she knew the woman was dead.


	6. Chapter 6

She isn't sure she exists anymore.

Time is an abstract concept, measured only by the number of meals - if they could be called that, pathetic slobs of cold porridge mixed with stale bread; that she receives. Tasteless substance, merely worthless matter she'd long given up on because... because what? She couldn't remember but it didn't matter anymore as is.


	7. Chapter 7

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Her cell is dry but she can hear the water. It drips and dribbles and she's sure it's somewhere nearby because it echoes through her head every minute of every day. She laughs. She doesn't know why but she keeps laughing. When her stomach begins to hurt and she starts to dry heave she realises she has been crying.


	8. Chapter 8

She's faily certain she has a name. _Had_ a name. They didn't call her anything, at all, but on occasion she heard whispers of _bitch_ and _why isn't she dead?_ Spite, she thinks. Her name is Spite, because that seems to be the only thing holding her together.


	9. Chapter 9

She comes to the conclusion her name is not, in fact, spite. She isn't sure what the name - word? - means anymore. She isn't sure how to think. Instead she stares, daring the walls to move. To entertain her.

Perhaps out of spite, they do not.


	10. Chapter 10

She knows they want her to die. They are just obligated to _wait_ for her to die, rather than do her kindness of aid.

She decides she will help them instead.

But even as the rags hang loosely from her frame, and she is certain she is already dead, she hears her heart beating.

A traitorous thing, rotten to the core.


	11. Chapter 11

She tries to eat this time. She feels pain as the sludge goes down her throat and she vomits immediately after.

She keeps trying again. She doesn't know why, but she does. Shaking on her hands and knees, barely mustering up the strength to get off her back, she swallows down as much as possible.

Not much was possible.

But she manages.


	12. Chapter 12

When they visit again - and their visits were rare, because broken dolls weren't as fun to hear crack, not as satisfying to twist and throw and take a swing at; _when they visit again_ she is sitting, back against on the wall.

  
When knuckles connect to skin, she feels the disappointment. Only when it dribbles onto her lips does she realize it's just blood.


	13. Chapter 13

She can hear them talking, they're in front of her, waving hands, shaking her by the shoulders. She doens't understand and neither do they.

They drag her away - carry her, more so; she was small and weak and the clank of metal against metal, her cheek pressed against breastplate, was soothing.


	14. Chapter 14

The moon illuminates her, bathing her in blinding, bright light, and she feels an aching deep within her chest. From the tips of her fingers to the marrow of her bone.

She feels the hope she never knew was there all along.


End file.
